Big O's

by M. S. Parker

  My eyelids fluttered when the head of him brushed against me and I tipped my hips up in anticipation. His mouth came down hard on mine and then he was inside me, burying himself deep with one thrust. He stilled there, his mouth softening on mine before he raised his head, pressing his forehead to mine.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Ummm…” I had a hard time processing that question as every inch of my body was currently trying to adjust to the realization of just how full I was. “I think…but you aren’t moving.”

  He chuckled, a low, dark sound that made me shiver.

  Then he started to move and I found that I was far better than okay.

  He moved with purpose, each stroke rubbing against all the right parts of me even as the hair on his chest scratched against my sensitive breasts. The sensations nearly overwhelmed me, taking away my ability to say anything but more and please. To do anything other than move with him, rake my nails down his back and then dig them into the firm muscles of his ass. Nothing outside of this room, this bed, registered. Only him inside me and above me.

  But it wasn’t only the physical pleasure of our bodies coming together that assaulted my senses, my mind. It was the inexplicable rightness of it, of how we fit together. It was how being with him, like this, made me feel safe in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. How, for the first time since I’d arrived in California, my center shifted, and this time, this place, became home.

  As I exploded around him, white light danced behind my eyes and my body burned. Then he followed me only a few seconds later, groaning my name, and I thought maybe the pleasure just might kill me.

  But what a way to go.

  24

  Glenn

  I rolled over onto my side, thin morning light coming through the narrow slit in the curtains.

  There was a dark, tousled head on the pillow next to mine and I reached up, stroking a finger down Maya’s cheek.

  She slept on.

  It had been two months since the day when Maya had all but knocked me down in her rush to get to Florence. How she’d suspected what Florence might do, and when, I had no idea.

  It wasn’t something we talked about.

  And we talked a lot. Just not about that.

  Florence was still staying at the clinic. She was supposed to leave soon. I thought she could have left already, but I’d heard from Maya there was a man she was interested in. Florence hadn’t revealed anything more than that, but she seemed…happier. Calmer.

  Settled.

  Things she’d never been with me, so whoever the man was, maybe he was good for her. Or maybe the therapy was just doing what it was supposed to do. I just hoped she stayed steady when she left. I wished her nothing but the best.

  I stroked my finger down Maya’s cheek again, but she didn’t respond other than to wrinkle her nose and turned her face away. After a moment, she rolled onto her side and hauled most of the blankets with her.

  I’d fallen in love with a blanket thief.

  I’d fallen in love.

  I murmured those words to myself silently, wondering at them.

  I couldn’t quite believe it had happened, but it had. When I’d first seen her, first kissed her, even, I’d thought it was infatuation. I’d hoped it was. Infatuation could pass. After the first time we’d slept together, I’d waited for things to change like they always had. For that deep need I had for her to wan.

  Except it didn’t. It’d hadn’t. If anything, it had only grown.

  Maya was different, always had been, and different had always caught my attention, but it wasn’t the fact that she was unique that made me love her.

  I loved her because she was…Maya.

  And because I loved her, I climbed out of bed without waking her.

  She’d fallen asleep reading last night. She read all the time. We were constantly going shopping for books, and if I was working, like I had been the past few weeks, then I had a driver take her.

  She didn’t have a license, and when I offered one of my cars to her, she’d been oddly reluctant. I’d offered to teach her how to drive, but she shook her head. I can drive. I just don’t want to.

  I didn’t mind. If she wanted to be chauffeured around in a car painted gold, I’d arrange it. So far though, all she ever did was go to the library, or to one of the stores she’d decided offered the best selection of books.

  Last night hadn’t been the only night she’d fallen asleep reading, either. I’d teased her about how exhausting it was to read, and she’d thrown a pillow at me. You wouldn’t know, you never read, unless it’s a movie script.

  I’d never had a woman tease me in a way that wasn’t sexual, but Maya did it all the time, and I loved it, loved that we had our little language. And the more time I spent with her, the more it meant to me.

  She snuggled deeper into the blankets as I crossed the room. I wanted to crawl back in next to her and wake her up with my tongue and fingers between her legs, but I needed to shower and grab some food before leaving for my meeting with Peter.

  “The studio’s pleased with what they’re hearing,” Peter said as he poured himself a drink. For him, brunch wasn’t complete without at least one drink. “Two months clean and sober, without an incident. Granted, they would prefer to see you married, or at least engaged, but it’s an improvement.”

  I leaned back in my chair, relieved. When Peter had asked me to meet him for brunch, I’d half-expected to finally have the confrontation we’d been dancing around from the moment I’d told him that Maya and I were together. I hadn’t expected him to seem so...cheerful.

  “I’m glad they’re happy,” I said honestly. “I am too.”

  He took the seat across from me and gave me a shrewd look as he sipped the amber alcohol in his glass. “With Maya.”

  I nodded. “I know you liked her–”

  He held up a hand, stopping me. “She’s beautiful and intelligent, but by the end of that night when we all first met, I knew there was more heat between the two of you than she and I could’ve ever hoped to have.”

  I blinked, surprised. “But you kept telling me I should be with Florence. Hell, you told me to propose to her.”

  He shrugged. “I thought Florence would be better for you. Her star is on the rise. Or was, anyway. She’ll probably come back from the scandal, once someone else does something stupid.”

  He was probably right about that.

  “She’s doing well,” he said. “And sends her best to you and Maya.”

  “Is that why you wanted to see me?” I asked. “To tell me that you’re both okay with Maya and I being together?”

  “No.” He tossed a sheaf of papers toward me. “But I figured it was time to say it anyway. Especially since I’ve moved on.”

  I picked up the papers. “What’s this?”

  “A new script,” he said with a grin. “Your reputation has improved enough for the studio to trust you with the lead of their biggest new project.”

  I stared at it, not quite daring to believe it. “What do they want in return?”

  “Just that you do not return to your previous behavior.” Peter poured a small bit of whiskey into a clean glass and put it in front of me. “So make sure you don’t lose that girl of yours.”

  I smiled. “I don’t intend to.”

  It was almost evening by the time I got back, and I found Maya in the backyard with Mrs. Blanchard. They were on their knees in the dirt, and I scowled as I approached.

  “Did you run out of books to read?”

  She slid me a narrow look, and Mrs. Blanchard made a disappointed noise in her throat.

  “I was bored.” Maya rolled her eyes. “I wanted to get outside, and Mrs. B. told me I could give her a hand if I wanted. I think I’m going to have her teach me how to cook.”

  I thought about telling her that I had Mrs. Blanchard there to do the cooking, but I figured out, just in time, that wasn’t the point.

  She’d already told me the point.

 
She was bored.

  “Well, when you get done becoming a master chef, let me know.” I leaned in and kissed her, though not as deeply as I would have if we’d been alone. “We’ll figure something out that won’t keep you so…bored.”

  “Like what?” She rolled her eyes at me, a smile on her lips.

  Mrs. Blanchard’s snort kept me from saying something I probably shouldn’t say around her, but I grinned at Maya, all the same. As she laughed at me, I pushed myself to my feet.

  “I’m going to go take a shower.” I lingered another moment, though. “Peter said Florence is doing well.”

  “She is.” Maya reached up to wipe at her face and left a streak of dirt on her cheek. “She called me today. A few more weeks, and she’ll be ready to leave the clinic. Did Peter know the name of the guy she likes?”

  “No, he said she’s still keeping that a secret.” I considered telling her about the movie offer but decided to wait. There were other things more important tonight.

  She sighed and stretched her arms over head, the sunlight dancing off the gold necklace she wore. She hardly ever took it off, except the other day when she’d lost it.

  “You found your locket.”

  Her hand went to it, as if she had to reassure herself. “Yeah. It fell into the laundry. Mrs. B actually found it.” She gave the older woman a grateful look.

  “She’s good at that.” I slid Mrs. Blanchard a casual glance. “You’ll have dinner ready in a few hours, Mrs. B?”

  For once, she didn’t give me that famous snort.

  “Of course.” She even smiled a little.

  That had Maya’s eyebrows rising. I turned away before she could think to ask anything.

  I didn’t want my surprise to be ruined.

  We ate outside.

  Mrs. Blanchard had set everything up and then left, taking the night off as I’d asked her to.

  Not only had she arranged a table, covered with a tablecloth of soft white and set with dishes I hadn’t ever seen before, she’d put candles out, and even placed a bucket of champagne chilling nearby.

  When Maya had first come outside, her eyes had gotten big, gleaming with unshed tears. I didn’t want her crying, so I kissed her and told her she looked so beautiful, though I was tempted to put her on the table and fuck her senseless right there in the open.

  That had made her laugh and blush.

  I loved seeing both. I wanted to see both for a long time to come.

  Now as she sat across from me, sipping champagne, I touched the box I had tucked into the pocket of my sport coat.

  I detested dressing up, but there were some occasions that just called for it.

  When she put the glass down, I moved from the table. If anybody had told me a couple of months ago that I would be getting down on bended knee, I would have laughed. Or asked them if they were drunk.

  But there I was, on one knee in front of Maya.

  She was staring at me with wide, startled eyes, and I was almost positive that she hadn’t seen this coming. I could see her pulse slamming in her throat, and my own felt like it was beating to match. When I pulled the jewelry box from my coat pocket, she pressed a hand to her lips to stifle her gasp.

  “Oh, no,” she whispered. “No way.”

  “I hope you’re not saying no,” I said, not entirely joking. “I haven’t even asked you yet.”

  That startled a laugh out of her, and some of my tension eased.

  “Maya…” I kissed back of her hand. “I love you. I love you more than I would thought was possible. I didn’t know I could love somebody like this.”

  She bit her lower lip for a second, then said softly, “I love you too.”

  “Will you marry me?”

  She launched herself at me and wrapped her arms around my neck.

  Kneeling, the impact of her body knocked me off balance, but I wasn’t going to complain. Not when the end result had me on my back, holding her against me as she kissed me. No, I didn’t mind at all that her slender body moved against mine.

  It was a moment before I realized that I still had the ring.

  “Is that a yes?”

  She sat up, one knee on either side of my hips, her core pressed against my quickly swelling erection. There were too many clothes separating us, but I needed her answer before I took care of that problem.

  “Yes.”

  She held out her hand, holding my gaze steadily.

  And as I slid the ring onto her finger, I watched her face, trying to etch every fine detail into my memory. Then, reaching up, I caught her by the front of her shirt and tugged her down to meet my kiss.

  “So…where do you think we should have our honeymoon?”

  25

  Maya

  I gave my reflection a critical study. I was pretty, and vain enough to appreciate that fact.

  I was also not so vain that I was going to stand in the bathroom and primp while my fiancé waited in the bedroom for me.

  Fiancé.

  I was getting married.

  Reaching up, I touched the necklace—it had started to glow in that way it did sometimes. I’d probably never understand what that meant. Just like I’d never understand entirely why or how I’d ended up in 1962.

  I’d probably never get back home, and I was coming to terms with that.

  I missed my parents more than anything. Honestly, other than my parents and uncle, I didn’t really miss anything. I didn’t even miss Caitlyn. I’d come to recognize what a toxic friendship that had been, and it was one I didn’t need.

  I had what I needed, here.

  The diamond ring caught the light, splintered it out in a thousand small bursts, and I smiled. Reaching for my brush, I smoothed my hair down one last time and then opened the door, ready to knock Glenn’s socks off.

  Only…he wasn’t in the bedroom, neither him or his socks.

  Huffing out a breath, I started for the bed but stopped a few feet away. I needed to get that diary out and leave it somewhere so I’d remember to give it to Florence the next time I went to see her. She needed to have it back.

  I dug it out of my purse and lay it on the nightstand.

  A muscled forearm slid around my waist, a chilled bottle of champagne clamped in his hand. I yelped when it touched me, my skin protected only by the silky, sheer negligee.

  “That’s cold!”

  He kissed my neck. “I’ll warm you up.” The other arm came around my upper body, holding two crystal flutes. “I thought we should have another toast.”

  “You want to get me drunk,” I teased him, turning in his arms. He kissed me, quick and fast.

  “I want to celebrate,” he said.

  He popped the champagne open with ease and poured me a glass, then another for himself. I’d only taken one sip before he came back to me, still holding his own glass. The bottle was on the dresser now, and I savored another sip as he slid his free arm around my waist.

  “Dance with me,” he murmured.

  “There’s no music.”

  “We don’t need it.”

  We didn’t, either. We danced there, in the bedroom, Glenn wearing just a pair of trousers and me in my sexy little bit of silk and lace. We drank champagne and kissed and teased each other until any chill I’d felt was chased away.

  “I love you,” Glenn said against my mouth as his hands moved over me, blazing through the silk.

  “I love you too.” Curling my arms around his neck, I strained to get closer.

  I couldn’t get close enough, though.

  Never close enough.

  He groaned in appreciation as I wiggled against him, then he picked me up. A moment later, he laid me on the bed and came down over me, his mouth gliding down my neck to my breasts. The frothy lace was no true barrier, and he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking deep and hard. His hands dragged the long skirt of the negligee up, and I arched my hips to help before reaching to free him from his trousers.

  When he thrust inside me, I moaned out his n
ame, so glad that we’d moved past condoms in the past couple weeks. There was nothing like the feeling of skin against skin as he drove deep.

  I was already wet, aching, hovering on the brink of climax from the taunting, teasing foreplay that had been our dance.

  But he wouldn’t let me come, purposefully keeping his strokes slow and steady, his weight braced over me as he held my gaze. The fire inside me smoldered, constantly threatening to burst into flame, but constantly being kept at bay.

  “Watch me,” he ordered, voice rough and husky.

  Like I could do anything else.

  I rocked up to meet him, wrapped my legs around his waist, trying to hold him within me, trying to move him to give me that last little push I needed, but it did no good.

  He shuddered as he moved even deeper than before, and I felt his cock pulse, thickening inside me. It pressed against that spot inside me, and I gasped.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “I love you.”

  He moved harder, faster…finally.

  Raking my nails across his back and shoulders, then down his arms, I caught hold of his biceps and dug my nails in. “Please…oh…Glenn!”

  I could feel it, that heady ecstasy about to explode and overwhelm me—overwhelm us both.

  “Do that again,” he muttered when I convulsively tightened around him.

  I couldn’t control it, but as he drove into me over and over, hitting a place deep that made me see sparks, my muscles rippled and clenched. Each time I did, his cock pulsed, sending more waves of sensation washing over me...and that made my muscles tighten around him, gripping harder.

  It was an unending cycle of pleasure, and caught up in the torrent of it, I lost track of where he ended and I began.

  And that didn’t matter.

  As the climax slammed into me, he groaned my name and I felt him begin to come, emptying inside me, filling me. I clung to him and he to me, our bodies trembling and twitching as we rode out our pleasure together.